


The Waltons

by Katzedecimal



Category: Bruno and Boots - Fandom, Macdonald Hall - Gordon Korman
Genre: Family, M/M, Medical Cannabis, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-01-06 12:57:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18388883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katzedecimal/pseuds/Katzedecimal
Summary: Boots O'Neal had known Bruno Walton for many, many years.  Now, he's getting to know Bruno's family.  Which might explain a few things about Bruno.





	1. Giorge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sirwestaytay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirwestaytay/gifts).



> Expanding from _In The Darkest Hour_. Same post-book-canon timeline, same relationship status.

Boots had met Mr and Mrs Walton a couple of times before and thought they were nice enough. They were both jet-setters, high-powered people in high-powered careers. Both of their jobs demanded a lot of travel.

Giorge Walton was the charismatic and flamboyant general manager in the urban planning department of the City of Toronto. Bruno had inherited his father’s gifts for oration and showmanship. He had also inherited his father’s compassion and friendliness. Helena Walton was just about the jazziest middle-aged woman Boots had ever met. She was the Chief Development Officer of a large charitable foundation and **very** good at getting people to donate. Bruno had clearly gotten his abilities to schmooze and to convince people to go along with his plans, from her.

When Boots’s parents had cut him off from his university, Bruno had begged his own parents to let him take Boots in. They’d agreed and welcomed him but he still felt shy around them. He mostly stayed in Bruno’s suite in the basement, trying not to impose on their family life too much. When he got his job at WexCanna, they’d been supportive, even teasing him about bringing home free samples, which had taken him by surprise. 

“Um, I got my first pay cheque today,” Boots said. He had started at full-time until September, hoping to save up as much money as possible for his firefighter classes.

Giorge looked up from his computer with a smile, “Aha! Your first Budget Day!” Budget Day was a regular event in the Walton household. Anytime someone got paid, they all gathered around the computer and worked out how much would go to which expenses. Giorge clapped his hands and cracked his knuckles, “Okay, Boots, do you know much about this?”

Boots spread his hands, “Mainly what I learned at the Hall.”

Giorge turned back to his computer and pulled up a window. “Okay. This is how we do it and this is the software we use. Bruno has his own account. Do you want your own account? Or you can share his, your bank account stays separate.” Boots just shrugged. “Okay, how much did you get? Oo, nice!” Giorge started typing, “Bruno pays the loan we took out for renovating the basement into his living space. We count that as his rent. You’re living with him now, so you’ll pay a portion of the loan.”

Boots nodded, “That’s fair.” He glanced at Giorge, “What was so bad about the dorm at the university? Bruno didn’t tell me much but I got the impression he was kind of horrified.”

Giorge nodded, “He was. He thought it’d be like living at MacDonald Hall. I visited once, there was vomit in the stairwell and dents in the walls. He said there’s been worse. He told me some stories, like it was some sort of contest to see who could behave the worst.”

Boots nodded ruefully, “Yeah, we had a few of those at my dorm too.”

“He said he wanted to come back to civilization.”

“Can’t really blame him,” Boots sighed.

“Me neither. But now he’s used to living more or less independently, so we built the suite downstairs. It’s been working out pretty well.” Boots nodded. “Okay, so here’s what Bruno usually pays for his share in the hydro, heat, water, and such,” Giorge grinned, “Only now there’s four of us, eh? So we’re going to change the numbers around a bit, figure out some new percentages.”

“Okay.” Boots watched. “I really appreciate the time you’re taking to do this,” he said, “I know I’m kind of imposing on your generosity.”

Giorge was quiet, fingers tapping on his calculator. “Bruno insists on supporting you,” he said. After another minute, he said, “MacDonald Hall was a last resort. We knew if we didn’t do something drastic, we’d have a delinquent kid on our hands.” He sighed and looked at Boots, “You helped him turn himself around, channel his energies and find focus. You inspired him to do great things. He loved MacDonald Hall and he loved you. You’re not imposing. It’s our gratitude.” He patted Boots’s knee. 

Boots looked away and swallowed hard, not sure how to answer that. “I didn’t know that Bruno was in that kind of trouble,” he said instead, “I knew he was a prankster. We both liked pulling practical jokes. That’s what we first bonded over. I mean, I know Bruno can get a little out of control sometimes…” 

“You have a gift for understatement,” Giorge grinned. 

Boots blushed and grinned, “Um, yeah, um. But I didn’t think he was delinquent. I mean, he’s come up with some really cornball ideas but he never hurt anybody. He even checked with our scientific advisor to make sure a stunt wouldn’t hurt anyone. He’s actually one of the most compassionate people I know.”

“Yeah,” Giorge met his eyes, “MacDonald Hall was good for him. Helped him _keep_ those qualities.”

“…Oh.”

“Okay, here we go. How do these numbers look?”

Boots looked. The numbers gave him a comfortable food allowance and even enough to rent a GoCar now and then, while still leaving plenty for his student loan. And special occasions. “That’s fair,” he nodded, “I guess I should share Bruno’s account, since we’re living together.”

“Okay, let’s link up your bank account,” Giorge said, “If you don’t like it, you can unlink it again. And if you want to try your own budget account, they have a free trial period. They have a phone app too. This figure here, this is what Bruno pays us. He pays us by e-transfer, then it’s all taken care of and everything else is his own.”

Boots nodded and took out his phone, “That’s pretty different from what they showed us at the Hall.”

Giorge shrugged, “You can do it the Hall way if you want to. This is just how we do it.”

Boots shrugged too, “If it works for you, it’ll work for me.”

Giorge grinned at him, “Now remember, look at your categories, not at your bank balance. Put the app on your phone, that’ll help you keep track of what you spend. Then you’ll always know.”

“Works for me,” Boots said again.

* * * * 

“…and he’s helping me learn your budget system,” Boots was saying as he got undressed, “I’m kind of surprised, it looks like I’ll be able to save quite a lot and I can still take you out to dinner,” he finished with a wink and a nudge. 

Bruno settled into bed and pulled the blankets up, grinning proudly, “Isn’t Dad great? He’s really big on making it a family thing and yeah I thought it was all boring at first but then I started to get into it.”

“Yeah,” Boots grinned, sliding into bed. He put his arm around Bruno and felt him snuggle against him. “Bruno,” he said quietly, “Were you in trouble before you came to the Hall?”

Bruno was quiet for a few minutes. “Did Dad say something?”

“Yeah.”

Bruno digested that in more silence. “Yeah, kind of, I guess. At my old school… I dunno, I thought they were friends but looking back, they really weren’t. They weren’t good people. I mean, I like a good prank but their pranks… their punchlines hurt people. The closest we came to that was when we framed Elmer and George.” 

Boots winced; he remembered that and wished he could forget. Not a stunt he was proud of. “That was my idea,” he said, “Christ, now I feel even worse knowing it was something your former friends would have pulled.”

Bruno shook his head, “They wouldn’t have felt bad about it, is the thing.” He was silent for another minute. “I really hated my parents when they first sent me to MacDonald Hall,” he whispered, “I hated them for months. But then you and I got to be friends and we started pulling shit together and by the end of the first year, I was thanking them.” He leaned up to kiss Boots. “And I’ve been thanking them ever since.”


	2. Helena

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boots gets to know Bruno's mother a little, when she comes home with a migraine. Bruno's mother gets to know why Bruno's so in love with Boots.

It was a dark and stormy day off. Boots was home alone, blasting the stereo while he vacuumed and did last night’s dishes. He and Bruno usually cooked and ate their own food in their suite, though they often joined Bruno’s parents for supper on the weekends. He flicked the volume down and listened intently - yeah, he did hear the front door, someone was walking upstairs, very slowly. Wondering if he should bring a weapon, Boots crept up the basement steps. 

Mrs. Walton stood in the living room, her hands at her head, squinting as she twitched the drapes shut, grimacing with pain. Boots went back to kill the stereo then came back up, “Mrs. Walton? Helena? Are you okay?”

She winced at the sound of his voice. “Migraine,” she whispered.

Boots nodded. Good thing he’d already done the vacuuming but so much for running the dishwasher or doing the laundry. “Okay. I’ll stay out of the way. Um, is there anything you need?” he whispered.

“My bucket would be good,” she sighed.

“Oh, uh… right.” He scampered to the utility cupboard to find the bucket that Bruno had pointed out as being “Mom’s.” He frowned but brought it out. Helena had sunk onto the couch. “Um, I don’t know if this is… A lot of WexCanna patients use our products for migraines,” he said hurriedly, “Most use the CBD oil and some use the flower for quick relief. I mean, if that’s something you’d consider, I got some of the CBD samples…”

Helena pried her eyes open to look at him. “I took my meds an hour ago,” she told him, “At this point, I’ll try anything. Sure. Do I have to smoke a joint?”

“No, I learned how to use a vapourizer so that I could instruct patients,” Boots said, “I’ll go get it, I’ll be right back. You just, you just get comfortable, I’ll be right back.” He yanked the living room curtains shut then, quietly as he could, he raced back to the basement to find the bag of samples George had given him, along with his vapourizers and grinder. He grabbed his phone and pecked off a few texts, then pocketed it to bring up with him. He found his notes and looked up which of his samples would be the most appropriate, ground it, and loaded the vapourizer chamber. Then he stuffed it back into the bag and raced back upstairs. 

Where poor Helena lay on the couch, in her office clothes, with a cold washcloth on her forehead.

“Does that help?”

“No. But eventually I’ll wipe off my makeup.”

Boots smiled, “Um, I brought my stuff. I don’t have many strains but this one’s supposed to be pretty good. I have a little oil, you can have that. Most people swallow it, it takes longer to work but lasts longer so a lot of people vape the flower first for quick relief then take the oil for longer lasting relief.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Helena struggled to sit up a bit. She sniffed. “That doesn’t smell like pot.”

“Right? We’ve got a THC strain that smells just like lemonade,” Boots grinned, “I know, I was surprised. Um, have you ever used a vapourizer?”

“Nah, I was a bong girl,” Helena grinned. Boots blinked several times and she chuckled, “Vapourizers weren’t around when I was in university. It was either smoke it or eat pot brownies. It didn’t smell like this though, wow.” Another wave of pain hit and she gasped. 

Boots winced. Quickly he showed her how to inhale with the device, fervently hoping that this would work because it really really hurt to see Bruno’s kind, flamboyant mom in pain like this. Finally she sank back against the cushions as Boots’s phone buzzed. “Um, two of the people on duty at work today get migraines. I texted them to see if they have any suggestions. Colleen does, she says she’ll deliver some.” Helena just nodded. “Um, do you have pyjamas? I mean, you look really uncomfortable in that suit… I mean, it’s a nice suit… but you said you needed your bucket so I figure maybe you’ll want to change…”

“Second drawer of the dresser has my yoga pants and t-shirts,” Helena said. Boots hurried up the stairs to the master suite, found the dresser, pulled out the garments and rushed back downstairs. He left the living room to let her change and to go meet his colleague. 

Ten minutes later, he called quietly into the living room, “Are you decent?”

“I’ve got clothes on, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Boots grinned and came over to sit by the couch, “Um, Colleen brought a balanced strain she says works wonders for her and Oliver sent a sample of another strain that works for him, it’s a mild THC strain. And Colleen sent you one of her ‘cannonballs’, it’s a little cheese ball edible she makes with the CBD oil for her migraines. Um, how are you doing?”

“I haven’t thrown up yet and my eyes are open, I’d say it’s an improvement,” Helena replied, “I don’t think I should eat though, not yet.”

Boots nodded, “I’ll put it in the fridge. Colleen says if the strain I gave you isn’t enough, to try her balanced strain in another half hour and if that isn’t enough, try Oliver’s strain after another hour. It’s basically figuring out what you respond to.”

“I think it’s taking the edge off,” Helena agreed, “Good plan. Let’s get that balanced one ready, though, just in case.” She closed her eyes for a few moments. “Thank you.”

Boots shook his head, emptying his vapourizer’s chamber and preparing another bud, “You’ve been so kind and generous to me. I couldn’t stand to see you hurting like this if I could help somehow.”

“You’re a good man,” she opened her eyes and smiled at him, “Easy to see why Bruno liked you.”

“Bruno’s one of the most compassionate people I’ve ever known,” Boots sighed and smiled, “Once we were all set up to prank a guy, then Bruno heard him crying and next thing I know, he’s crawling through the guy’s window to find out what was wrong.”

“Was that that movie star kid? He kept calling him cute?”

Boots just managed to stifle his laughter. “Jordie Jones, yeah. No no, he kept calling him Cutesy because the guy played _Cutesy Newbar_ when he was three.”

“Ohhhh _right_ , that show! My mother loved that show, I didn’t think Bruno remembered that much about it. He wasn’t much more than three himself when it was airing. It’s still in syndication.” She thought about what that meant for Jordie Jones. “Poor kid.”

“Yeah no kidding,” Boots said fervently, “Yeah they filmed _Academy Blues_ at MacDonald Hall.”

“Yeah I know, Bruno couldn’t stop talking about it. And he was an absolute _pill_ for **weeks** after he found out he was in the movie.”

“Yeah that was probably the worst I’ve ever seen Bruno go off the rails,” Boots sighed, “He nearly-” and he nearly let slip something he shouldn’t mention to the person he remembered he was talking to.

“He nearly what?”

“He nearly,” Boots thought desperately, “-Got hurt doing that stunt, good stunt though, he pulled it off perfectly.”

“That’s not what you were going to say,” Helena grinned shrewdly, “He nearly got himself suspended, didn’t he.”

Close enough. “Um, yeah.” 

Helena gave him another shrewd look and Boots felt like vanishing under the floorboards. “Yeah, I remember the weekly ‘what has my kid done now?’ phone calls and emails,” she smirked wryly.

Boots blinked, “Really? The Fish never said he actually contacted anyone…”

“Ohhhhh they’re obligated to report but Mr. Sturgeon was very good at shall we say creative obfuscation. I kinda got the feeling that Bruno nearly got expelled once or twice.”

Boots sighed but admitted, “There was only the once where it was really certain, and that wasn’t even us. We were framed by… someone else.”

“Ahhh, is that what those phone calls were about,” Helena nodded thoughtfully, “Senior year, was it?” Boots nodded and Helena nodded, “We were both away on business trips. I kept getting messages from Mr. Sturgeon wanting to discuss an ‘urgent matter’, then when I was finally able to call him back, he said the matter had been resolved but he wouldn’t say **anything** else.”

“Actually that could have been any of the times,” Boots commented, then bit his lip, “Um, we… kinda got it as a threat a few times.” Helena snorted and shook her head, and Boots frowned, “You don’t seem very… upset by that?”

Helena snorted, “He wouldn’t have been the first. My daughter Bonita got kicked out of Miss Scrimmage’s Finishing School.”

Boots’s eyes popped and his jaw fell open. “Huh?? How do you get expelled from Scrimmage’s??”

“ _Technically_ she wasn’t expelled, we were asked to withdraw her,” Helena sighed, “Bonita out-Martha Stewarts Martha Stewart. She takes perfectionism to the nth degree. If you’re not doing it her way, you’re doing it wrong. You can imagine how this went over with Miss Scrimmage.” Boots could imagine how this went over with Bruno. Helena sighed again, this time in frustration, “Both my kids got control issues. One’s got too little, the other’s got too much.” She took a long draw from the vapourizer like Boots had shown her, then exhaled in another sigh, “So, I’m curious, what about you? What do you see in Bruno?”

Boots chuckled, “Well… he’s got control issues, alright, and when he sets his heart on something, he’s a real handful, **especially** if he starts to go off the rails but… If he can stick to the rails, he can do the most amazing things!” Boots stared at his memories, his eyes and voice warming until they were glowing, “He’s gone up against impossible odds and won! Buying the Hall a pool and a rec room, saving it from closing, I mean, he didn’t have a _direct_ hand in saving the Manchurian bush hamsters but it was his idea to give them the zucchini sticks. He has an uncanny ability to unite people and get them to do what he wants and he has all that energy! And seeing what he can accomplish…! It is **totally** worth being on that ride, even if he takes you in some pretty terrifying directions sometimes and you have to keep him from going over a cliff. He’s just…” He gestured vaguely, struggling for words, “Bruno’s amazing. And he’s hilarious! He’d come up with some of the craziest ideas and some of the best ideas, too! Like, some of the fundraiser ideas he had for the pool? Like the funny photo contest? That was the greatest! I don’t think I’ve laughed so hard in my life! And the Individual Effort day and the talent show? They were amazing! He gave so many people a chance to shine! Living with Bruno was the best time of my life, ever, I felt like-” Abruptly he cut himself off. 

Helena watched him. “You felt like what?”

Boots was silent for a moment. Finally he said, “I felt like I mattered to him.” Helena said nothing, giving him space. “My parents… They’re good people, they really are. But… they’re jocks. Like, Dad was an Olympian and Mom won a lot of championships, like our house is **full** of trophies, like if you turn around three times and spit, you’ll hit a trophy. And they really invested a lot in my education and in sports but… Like, they wanted to pull me from MacDonald Hall and send me to York Academy and I wrote all these stupid letters home about how great my classes were, hoping they’d buy it, and they did, and that was kind of the only time I felt they’d really listened to me.” Helena stayed silent. “Then Bruno bought me a pool. My parents wanted a pool so I would be a great athlete. Bruno wanted a pool so I would stay.” He sighed heavily and pushed his hands through his hair. “And he’s still doing it, still making me feel like I matter to him.”

“You do matter to him,” Helena said quietly, “He came running upstairs to tell me what happened and he had his savings balance and flight prices and then he brought up his budget and started presenting us with figures on how he could pay your way. Suddenly our crazy kid was manning up and wanting to take responsibility for you. You’re the man he loves and he’s loved you for years. We know you. Of course we weren’t going to say no.”

“I’m really grateful you didn’t,” Boots said earnestly, “Living with Bruno again has been awesome.” Abruptly he realized, “Oh geez, I’m sorry, I’ve been talking so much, your ears must be trying to drill into your brain!”

Helena shook her head carefully, “No, actually, I’m surprised, it’s actually down to a tolerable level. I might even be able to sleep now. And I’ll try that cheese ball, I think I can keep it down now.”

“Okay,” Boots nodded, “I’ll just go do some grocery shopping then, let you sleep in peace. I’ll leave you my grinder and stuff if you need more. This one’s the one I gave you, this is the balanced one, and the whole one is the THC one that Oliver likes. Um, is there anything you want from the store?”

“Nah,” Helena said. She gathered up the things and started up the stairs, “Thanks for offering, though. And thanks for this. It **is** helping.”

* * * *

“’Precious cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure, absolved of all sin, never committed any wrong,’” Bruno quoted. 

Boots had his face buried in his hands again, blushing again, laughing again. He looked up, “I swear to God, man, she was not high! She never touched the THC one!”

“Nah, I know, she’s just grateful,” Bruno chuckled, “At least she sees now why I love you. Seriously though, I am so pathetically grateful you could help her. I’ve only had like two or three migraines and they seriously fucked me up and she gets them a lot. Dad and I always feel so helpless seeing her like that and I can’t help but think about those people who have weird symptoms like strokes and it turns out to be migraines and I’m scared that’s going to happen to her. I mean, usually she’s messed up for over a day!”

“Did you know your mom did bong rips when she was our age?” Boots asked innocently. Bruno nearly spat out what he was drinking, swallowed hard, then laughed hysterically. “I like your mom, she’s cool,” Boots said, “We had a good chat. Apparently the Fish was good at ‘creative obfuscation.’” 

Bruno laughed again. “Yeahhhh,” he said, wiping his eyes, “I don’t think I fooled her any more than I fooled the Fish.”

“I really don’t think you did, man,” Boots grinned.

Bruno sighed and gathered up his plates, “Thanks for dinner, babe. I really wasn’t in the mood for pho but that’s about all Mom can eat when she’s got a migraine, so Dad always brings it home.”

“No problem,” Boots shrugged, “I knew you’d be tired today.”

“Exams **and** an extra long shift,” Bruno nodded fervently, “I’m about wiped.”

Boots kissed him tenderly, “Go to bed, babe. I’ll take care of the dishes.”


	3. Bonita

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruno had mentioned his sister a grand total of once, in all the time he and Boots had lived together at MacDonald Hall. Bruno hated her but said that everyone else described her as “the sweetest kid ever”, so when she first came by, Boots was well prepared to like her.

Bruno had mentioned his sister a grand total of once, in all the time he and Boots had lived together at MacDonald Hall. She was older than Bruno and Boots hadn’t met her during the couple of times he’d met the Waltons during holidays. Bruno hated her but said that everyone else described her as “the sweetest kid ever”, so when she first came by, Boots was well prepared to like her. 

Bonita was very nice and faultlessly polite. Boots remembered that she had gone to Miss Scrimmage’s Finishing School, across the highway from MacDonald Hall. He also remembered that she had been asked to leave, which he thought was a bit strange, given how tolerant Miss Scrimmage was. If Cathy Burton couldn’t get bounced out of Scrimmage’s, what did Bruno’s big sister do to manage it?

Bruno was cutting carrots in the kitchenette in their basement suite and Bonita came up to him. “What are you doing?” she cried, “That’s not how you cut carrots!”

Boots, in the bedroom where he was getting changed after work, blinked. Bruno paused and rolled his eyes, “Bonita…”

“You have to cut them on the diagonal!” Bonita took the knife from Bruno’s hand and started cutting, “Like this! That way you get the most surface area!” 

Boots blinked again. As someone who’d learned to cook from late-night clandestine lessons with Wilbur Hackenschleimer, the words made some sense, but the tone they were being delivered in…! Did she think Bruno was still twelve? He peered through the door to regard Bonita, trying to get a read on her. 

“It’s stew, Bonita, it doesn’t care about surface area. It cares about chunks. It cares about something to sink your teeth into.” He glared at her, “And did you knock? Because I don’t recall hearing it. I don’t recall saying ‘come in.’”

“It’s the basement, Bruno.”

“It’s my **apartment** , Bonita. I live here.”

“It’s not like you pay rent.”

“I pay the loan!” Bruno said, exasperated, “You know? The loan they took out to turn it into an apartment? Where I live? With my **boyfriend**?”

“Oh yeah, Mom said your buddy was staying with you.”

“He’s not **staying** with me, he lives with me. And he’s not just my buddy anymore, he’s my boyfriend.”

Boots decided to come out of the bedroom. “Howdy-do!” he said, looping his arm around Bruno’s waist, “You must be Bruno’s sister. I don’t think we’ve ever really met?” 

Bonita turned to look at him. Despite being three inches shorter than Bruno, Boots couldn’t shake the feeling that she was looking down her nose at him. “Oh hi!” she said, “It’s Melvin, right?”

Bruno held his breath. Boots’s expression didn’t change but his smile turned icy. “Boots,” he corrected. 

“But your real name is Melvin, right?”

Boots’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Bruno still hadn’t breathed. “Only to my immediate family.”

Bonita shrugged and extended her hand, “Well whatever. I’m Bonita Walton.”

“Boots O’Neal,” Boots said, shaking her hand lightly. “I’m Bruno’s biggest fan,” he added, grinning fondly at Bruno, who grinned back. “Making stew tonight, babe?”

“You betcha,” Bruno grinned.

“Nice!” Boots reached across to take the knife away from Bonita and began to cut celery - crosswise.

Bonita rolled her eyes, “Not you too!” 

She tried to take the knife back but Boots held it away, “I can do it.”

“But you’re doing it wrong!” she insisted, “You have to cut them on the diagonal! Bruno does it wrong because he’s hopeless.”

Bruno sputtered, “I am not hopeless!”

“Have you considered adding some more fibre to your diet?” Boots asked mildly, and Bruno choked.

Bonita stared at him, “What?”

“Just wondering.” Boots picked up a potato and started cutting it into chunks.

“Tch! You haven’t even peeled those!” Bonita protested, “And you’re cutting them wrong!” She turned to Bruno, “You really need to get a girl who can take care of you **properly**.”

“I can take care of myself!” Bruno said hotly, “And I can take care of Boots!”

“And I’ve had no complaints,” Boots said, scraping the vegetables into the pot. He smiled at Bonita, “And sorry but I’m just not emotionally invested in your opinions about carrots.” Bruno choked again. Bonita stared, then lifted her chin, turned around, and walked out. The door closed behind her and her heavy footsteps disappeared up the stairs. 

“Aaaaaand that’s Bonita,” Bruno sighed in frustration, “Yep. She’s always like that.”

“Does she think you’re still twelve? Dude, the snotty way she was talking to you!”

“I know! She’s even like that with her manager. Guy’s able to run a multi-million dollar department but not capable of managing his own Outlook calendar, the way Bonita treats him.”

Boots gaped, “How does she keep her job?!”

“She’s ‘just trying to help them be successful,’” Bruno shook his head, “She treats them all like they’re helpless without her and they’re all scared to tell her off. Nobody wants to piss her off!”

“Sounds more like my mom,” Boots sighed, “But your mom’s not like that?”

“Nope. People think Bonita’s really nice and sweet and then they figure out that Bonita thinks she knows what’s best for everybody and if you don’t let her, you’re wrong.”

“Or hopeless.”

“ _Exactly!_ ” Bruno sighed, “It really upsets Mom because like she’s totally **not** like that. She thinks she did something wrong, like sent her to the wrong school or hired the wrong babysitter or something. But I think she was just always like that. **Miss Scrimmage** couldn’t handle Bonita.”

“Wow,” said Boots. They looked up at the sound of footsteps then a knock at the door. 

“Come in,” Bruno called. 

Mrs. Walton stepped in and cocked an eyebrow at Boots. “Did you tell Bonita she’s full of shit and I don’t give a fuck?”

Bruno and Boots bit their lips and looked at each other. Boots hemmed and hawed for a few seconds before admitting, “Not… in those words, _exactly_ , but the sentiment was… about that, yeah.”

Bruno leapt to his boyfriend’s defense, “Mom, she totally deserved it! She came barging in here while Boots was changing, she didn’t even knock, she started in on her shit again, **and** she called Boots by his name! Boots was super polite about it but he was totally in his rights to tell her off!”

“What, exactly, did you say?”

“I… might have told her she needed more fibre in her diet annnnnd that I’m not emotionally invested in her opinions…” Boots admitted.

Mrs. Walton paused and nodded, “Yeah that’s polite. I’m gonna have to remember those.” She grinned, “Giorge is out in the garage busting a gut laughing. Good job! …And that stew smells delicious!” She closed the door behind her. 

Bruno and Boots looked at each other again, then broke up laughing.

* * * *

The stew was excellent. Bruno dug his spoon into a dumpling. “Hey, um,” he said finally, “I know you really hate your name…”

“Yesss?” Boots put a thick chunk of carrot into his mouth.

“And you’ve threatened other people who’ve called you by it… And you told Bonita only your immediate family can use it…” Boots chewed at him. “But I’ve called you by it a couple of times and you’ve always just… let it slide?”

Boots swallowed the carrot. He reached across the table to take Bruno’s hand, “Bruno… how long have we known each other?”

“Since we were… eleven? Twelve?” Bruno blinked, “Geez I don’t even remember!”

“Yeah,” Boots said, squeezing lightly, “ **You’ve** earned it as a privilege.”


	4. Bruno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “House day! Another Fine Walton Family Tradition.”
> 
> “How did I hear capitals on all that?”
> 
> Boots learns why having to do chores never affected Bruno all that much, and Bruno has always been Bruno.

One thing had changed since Bruno’s days at MacDonald Hall: He no longer rose at 8:45 a.m. Between his university class hours and the need for transportation, his weekdays now started several hours earlier. True to form, however, he slept until the last fifteen minutes before he had to leave, then tore through his rooms like a whirlwind. On the weekends though, he was still snoring. 

Five sneezes punctuated the snores, signifying that Boots was awake. He yawned and stretched and gazed at his sleeping boyfriend, reflecting that he hadn’t slept so well since he left MacDonald Hall. He pressed a feather-light kiss to Bruno’s forehead then got up to put the kettle on on his way to the bathroom. When he came back, he heard signs that Bruno was awake, then the bedroom door opened and Bruno himself wandered out, yawning mightily. He stumbled over to Boots and collapsed theatrically into his arms. 

“Morning, babe,” Boots laughed, “Coffee’ll be ready in a jiff.” He poured the water over the coffee grounds in the French press pot and put the lid on. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Sausage?” Bruno said much too innocently, giving Boots’s rump a squeeze. 

Boots laughed again, “ **After** breakfast. I’m starving.” He checked the coffee then pushed the plunger down and poured it into two mugs.

“Look in the fridge,” Bruno suggested. Boots looked. Inside was a foil-covered pan, filled with custard-soaked bread. Bruno turned on the oven and put the pan into it. “Baked French toast,” he said, “Got the recipe from Wilbur.”

“Of course,” Boots chuckled, “When did you make that up?”

“Last night, while you were at work. I got home a little early,” Bruno smiled.

“Nice!” They kissed and Boots grinned. “You working tonight?”

“Yeah and I’m on till. I don’t have to close tonight though, so I can be home a little earlier.”

“Great!” Boots reached for his knapsack and drew out a package, “George gave us all samples of the new in-house strains. There’s two new CBDs and a balanced strain.”

Bruno’s face lit up, “Oh nice!” 

“Yeah, he’s pretty excited to see how they’ll do for people,” Boots tipped his head and flexed his eyebrows at Bruno, “And he’s looking for names.”

“Well he’s come to the right people,” Bruno declared.

Boots chuckled, “That’s what I told him.” He looped his arms around Bruno again with another kiss, “Got any ideas for today?” Bruno grinned. “ **Besides** that.”

“House day,” Bruno replied, “Another Fine Walton Family Tradition.”

“How did I hear capitals on all that?”

“Trademarked for your pleasure,” Bruno grinned, “Eh, it’s chore day, basically. My parents would make up a list of the chores that needed to be done, we’d all choose a handful, then we’d crank the music up and all get to it. Dad brings home pizza and cake or something or we all go out for sushi. They like to make a big thing out of it. Dad says it’s something we do for our home.”

Boots frowned, “Is that why doing chores as punishment never seemed to work on you?”

Bruno shrugged, “I guess so. I guess I just transferred that onto the Hall. ‘Cause you’re right, it never really bothered me.”

“Well it bothered me but I have to admit it also turned me into a functional human being,” Boots sighed and curled his lip, “There was a guy in my dorm at UBC freaking out asking if anybody knew how to get laundry detergent out of his clothes.”

Bruno stared at him, “You’re kidding.”

“I don’t have to, Bruno.”

“Wow. That’s… that’s… I dunno what to say to that.”

“Yeah, neither did I,” Boots chuckled, “So, we make up a list, whip the place into shape, and then screw like crazed weasels?”

“Well I was hoping we could do the crazed weasel part first,” Bruno grinned.

“After breakfast,” Boots promised.

Bruno checked the oven then looked at Boots curiously, “So what was your dorm like?”

Boots blinked, “At UBC?” He shrugged, “I dunno, it was mostly alright. It wasn’t like MacDonald Hall though.”

“Did you have a roommate?”

“Yeah, I did, his name was Chris and he’s an artist. Every artist I know is named Chris! We got along pretty good. He’s where I picked up the habit for classical music and tea in the evening.” Boots grinned slyly, “I picked up a few other habits from him, too, and I can’t wait to try them with you.”

Bruno gave him a Look. “What kind?”

“Pea soup and lapsang souchong tea on a miserable day,” Boots grinned, “You gotta try it, it’s the best!”

Bruno blinked. “That is not what I was expecting you to say.”

Boots laughed, “Are you kidding me? I never stopped talking about you the whole time I was there!”

Bruno was mollified. “What did he talk about?” 

“He didn’t. Like, literally, he didn’t talk. At first I thought he was non-verbal or mute or something but I think maybe the sound of his own voice was too loud for him. He wrote everything he wanted to say, or texted it.”

“Wow!”

“Yeah. He had a girlfriend though, she’s Deaf and he was learning ASL. I started learning some, too.”

Bruno checked the oven again, “That could be useful for you as a fireman.”

“Yeah I was literally just thinking that.”

“Sounds like you had a lot of fun out there.”

Boots shrugged, “Not really. The scenery was glorious, with the mountains and the Pacific ocean but…everywhere I went it was like, Bruno would love this, oh Bruno would love this sunset, I wish I could take Bruno to this whateveritis. And I really was not loving my classes.” He sighed and shook his head. “What about you? Your dad said you asked to move back in? He said he was shocked by your dorm?”

“Tch,” Bruno rolled his eyes, “You have no idea. It was like a competition to see who could be the most… I don’t even know. Guys’d get hammered on beer then throw up in the stair wells. And there were guys getting literally sick because they ate nothing but coke and pizza! Okay like, I grew up with Wilbur Hackenschleimer, he at least made sure we understood why we had to eat the green things.”

“Right?” Boots chuckled, “And he made them edible. Yeah I saw the same sorts of things.”

“And there were literal holes in the walls and doors because some guys couldn’t control their tempers! And some of the guys…” Bruno took a deep steadying breath. “I didn’t go to MacDonald Hall to support that kind of behaviour, even passively. So I called Mom and Dad and asked if I could come home.”

_Something happened. Something bad,_ Boots thought. Aloud he said, “And then they built you this sweet bachelor pad to come home to.”

“Personally I think they just got really used to having an empty nest,” Bruno chuckled. He checked the oven again and pulled out the finished dish. “Breakfast!” he announced, “And I got the **good** syrup!”

“Nice!”

“Eat up, ‘cause I’m thinking about riding you,” Bruno said with a lascivious grin. 

Boots grinned back, helping himself to breakfast, “You sure? We have grocery shopping and chores to do. You might want to save that for later.”

“Hmm, true. We could do it before I go to work, then I can remember who’s waiting for me when I get home. But I want you now. Sixty-nine?”

“But I want kisses.”

Bruno nodded thoughtfully, “Definitely with you on the kisses. Kisses are very high on the list today.”

“We could frot,” Boots offered, “Frot now, fuck later?”

“I like the way you think, you have sold me on this plan.”

“Race you to the bedroom? … Oh now that’s not fair!”

* * * *

“God I hate grocery shopping!”

“It wasn’t any better in Vancouver,” Boots agreed. He set the bags down on the counter with a thump, “That’s why I try to go early.”

“As always, Boots, you’re the voice of wisdom,” Bruno sighed. He unpacked the canned goods and put them into the pantry. He tossed a can of clams in the air and caught it before putting it in the cupboard, “Every time I make Wilbur’s clams on toast thing, I text him and thank him.”

“Ha! Yeah… It’s not my favourite meal but he’s right, it’s better and cheaper than McDonald’s.”

“When I got zero time between work and falling into bed, you betcha,” Bruno paused and listened. From upstairs came the sound of thumping bass. “Sounds like Mom’s already got started. What do you want to do, the vacuuming?”

Boots nodded, “I’ll vacuum, you mop, I’ll do the dishes if you do the windows.”

“And I’ll pick up the trash, I’m good at that,” Bruno snickered, “What do you want for a playlist?”

Boots grinned. Bruno stared at him, “No.” Boots grinned wider and reached for the computer. “No! Don’t do it, Boots, I’m warning you!” Boots smiled his full-on “halo over devil horns” smile and Aqua’s “Doctor Jones” filled the air. Bruno sighed, exasperated, “You’re just lucky I love you!”

“Bruno, I’ve **seen** you do lip-sync into the mop handle, you’re not fooling me.”

Bruno had to grin - busted! “Yeah, whatever, race you! Loser gets snogged!”

Boots paused, “That’s not exactly _losing._ ”

“I know, that’s the best part!” Bruno grinned. He grabbed the mop and they got to work. 

They took turns lip-syncing into the mop handle. 

After a while, Bruno paused in scrubbing the stove top and looked up at the ceiling, “Did my mom just swear?”

“Sounded like it,” came Boots’s voice. He pulled the bathroom door shut behind him and said, “Do **not** go in there.”

“Break time,” Bruno decided, laughing, “Let’s go see what’s up with Mom.” They thumped up the stairs to the Waltons’ kitchen. Helena Walton was bent over her vacuum cleaner. “Hi Mom! We heard you yell. What’s going on?”

“It doesn’t suck,” Helena said, exasperated, “And I can’t figure out what’s wrong. It’s not clogged or anything and it seems to be getting power.”

“Want me to take a look at it?” Bruno offered. Helena pushed her hair back and made an ‘it’s all yours’ hand wave. Bruno helped her up and she went to sit at the kitchen table. Bruno sat down on the floor, spread his legs out into a V and pulled the canister between them to pop the lid open.

Boots took another chair at the table to watch. The canister was an older model. It wasn’t the pod shape of modern canisters nor the horizontal sausage shape like the one Boots’s grandma still used. This one was an upright round cylinder that looked like a trash can on steroids or possibly a smaller R2-D2. “Is that an old Kirby canister?”

“Yeah, it belonged to my mother,” Helena said, “I grew up with that thing. I had nightmares about it when I was a kid.”

“Well, it’s a Kirby,” Boots agreed, then suddenly grinned, “Hey Bruno, remember the Goliath Virus?”

“The Goliath Virus! Oh my God, yes!” Bruno hooted, “Even Elmer Drimsdale got in on that one!”

“There was this one kid who was just pissing **everybody** off,” Boots explained, “And there was this computer virus going around at the time and everyone was paranoid but nobody really knew much about it. So we were all talking about it and this kid is bragging about the new games he’d just bought and then Bruno says-”

“’You mean the stuff that’s infected?’” Bruno grinned, bent over the canister. He picked up a screwdriver to remove the motor cover.

“And **everyone** is like,” Boots pretended to freeze with a look of apprehension and anticipation, “’Uh oh… What’s Bruno gonna do?’ and I’m like ‘…oh no’ because, like, most of us knew the games weren’t actually infected but like, this kid was really, really annoying everybody and he’d just pushed Bruno’s last button, so-”

“Boots started feeding me questions about what the virus could do,” Bruno grinned wickedly, “And they were brilliant. And then the guys jumped in and they just got more ridiculous.”

“And then Elmer came in,” they chorused.

“You gotta understand, this guy was annoying _Elmer_ ,” Boots explained, “It is nearly impossible to annoy Elmer. Frustrate him, yes, but annoy him? To the point where he wants to choke you with your own inanities I think that’s what he said? Rare. Rare as hen’s teeth. This kid did it.”

Bruno put down the screwdriver and gestured, “Mom, Boots is _amazing._ He doesn’t even hesitate, he just says ‘Oh hi Elmer, you know about the Goliath Virus, right? The one that yadda yadda and he lists off a few of the ludicrous things they’d been saying and the other guys chime in and Elmer totally could have said ‘What no, don’t be ridiculous’ and the jig would have been up.”

“But Elmer knows us.”

“But Elmer knows us,” Bruno agreed, “ _And_ he had spotted the kid. So then he knows what’s up and he says,” Bruno gripped imaginary lapels and did his best Elmer voice, “‘Oh yes, Boots, I know all about it, it’s terribly devastating, what would you like to know?’”

“Elmer was like, the Word of God around MacDonald Hall,” said Boots, “He was the Science Guy. If he said it, it was true. _Everybody_ trusted Elmer, even the Fish!”

“So anyways, we got this thing doing totally ridiculous things and then Boots asks Elmer - perfectly straight face with those Big Sincere Boots Eyes - ‘I’ve heard that it can send copies of itself into your house’s electrical system and infect all your smart appliances’ and Elmer just nods with his Science Face on and tells him ‘Yes, you heard correctly, it turns smart home appliances into its own bot net,’ and this kid just flippin’ **panicked**.”

“His Mom had just bought a Kirby upright, you know one of those ones that looks like it could eat you? Turns out it had smart programming and he’d sent one of the games to his brother at home.”

“We told him the virus would reprogram it and cause it to start acting on its own. Mom, we had him convinced the thing was going to come to life and start chasing everyone in the vicinity like something out of a Stephen King nightmare, it was totally awesome.”

“Even the Fish thought it was funny.”

“Yeah we, we kind of got called down to the Headmaster’s office,” Bruno admitted, “’Cause we got the kid so paranoid, he took apart his laptop.”

“Whiiiiich he was not supposed to be putting games on in the first place ‘cause it’s school property,” Boots added, “I think that’s why the Fish only gave us one evening of garbage detail while the kid got two weeks of dishes to replace the laptop.”

“But why did he take apart the laptop?” Helena asked. 

“Welll, I did say we got really ridiculous with the things this ‘virus’ could do,” Bruno said, “We basically had him convinced it would hide in the battery and infect all the hardware components of his computer.”

“ **And** clone itself into the electrical sockets,” Boots reminded them, “So it could infect the whole dorm.”

Helena wiped the tears off her face, “Oh man… You have to tell Dad about that.”

“Pretty sure it’s too late for him to kill me,” Bruno said, “There’s a statute of limitations on middle school pranks, right?” He twiddled with a wire and felt a slight spark. “This wire seems a bit loose. There, let’s see if that works.” Still leaning over the open canister, he turned it on. A cone of dust instantly sprang upwards, completely enveloping Bruno’s head and chest. He turned the vacuum cleaner off and _then_ looked up, covered in grey dust.

Boots immediately dissolved into hysterical laughter. Helena had her hand over her eyes, laughing so hard she was silent. “That’s… that’s my son,” she managed.

“Yeah… That’s my boyfriend,” Boots gasped.

Helena grinned at him, “I got him by lottery, you _chose_ him.” 

Boots nodded helplessly. “Oh man… And I left my phone downstairs!”

Giorge Walton came through the door, shedding bits of grass from mowing the lawn. He stared at the grey moonscape where the kitchen used to be. “What in the world…?”

“Hi Dad!” said Bruno, causing Boots to lose it again, “I fixed Mom’s vacuum cleaner!”


End file.
